Chapter 127


    Crosswinds


    “Invasion?” Tanlor almost choked on the word. “Surely there’s some mistake?”


    “I wish there was,” Kashin said, his voice like gravel. The man was stout, battle-worn, his face etched with the lines of too many years spent out in the wilds fighting rakmen. A legend among the outposts along Nortara.


    “Reldoni landed two weeks ago.” Kashin’s gaze shifted to Daegan, hard as flint. “And you’ll forgive me, Sir Tanlor, but I’m not too keen on discussing confidential matters with a prince of the fucking enemy.”


    “Enemy?” Daegan’s jaw tightened, anger flaring in his eyes. “I’m the—”


    “—Daegan Tredain is the reason the men of Twin Garde survived, Commander,” Rowan interjected, cutting through the tension. He was the only one seated, his injuries still not letting him stand like the others, though the room felt charged with enough energy to put him on his feet. Kashin had brought two guards with him to this meeting in his own office. The office was reflective of the man, no frills, all practicality.


    “Aye,” Cru rumbled, stepping forward. It had been Rowan’s idea to bring Cru along. If anyone could vouch for Daegan and the Shrydan brothers, it was the Twin Garde captain. “I don’t know what’s happening down south, but Lord Daegan here’s done nothing but fight shoulder to shoulder with us. Rak bastards would’ve gutted us all if it weren’t for him, Commander.”


    Kashin sighed, a deep, world-weary sound, as he pointed to the parchment sprawled across his desk. “The Blightwind King, they’re calling him. Your brother.” His hard eyes locked onto Daegan as if it were a personal accusation. “Has launched an invasion on Rubane. Reldoni warships landed all along the coast. Nordock? Handed over without so much as a scratch. Duke Rivers, it seems, has turned cloak.”


    Tanlor let out a low curse under his breath. Daegan stood rigid, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that Tanlor thought he might snap right there.


    “No word from Garronforn or Rubastre yet,” Kashin continued, voice grim. “But from what this message says, this isn’t some skirmish. It’s widespread. The Reldoni are hitting the southern coast like a storm.”


    “Blightwind?” Daegan muttered, brow furrowing. “My brother? If Lukane’s wearing the crown, then my father’s dead. The old man would never have let it go. Blightwind though, don’t know why he’d go by that name. It’s not his style.”


    Tanlor watched the confusion flicker across Daegan’s face, but not a trace of grief. He didn’t expect any. Daegan had told him enough about his father—cruel, abusive bastard that he was. The death didn’t shake him. No, it was the invasion. Tanlor could see it now—Daegan’s mind turning over, piece by piece, trying to fit this puzzle together, trying to see where it left him. Where it left them all.


    “Duke Rivers has thrown in with the Reldoni…” Rowan considered aloud. “Rivers is responsible for these outposts along the Western Nortara. Has he given no orders?”


    “Nothing directly,” Kashin snapped, the words full of bitterness. “The messenger came from Bluewater Wall. And they got word from Harriston—the closest major town between here and Nordock. The Harriston mayor sent the report. He’s as confused as everyone else. A thousand Reldoni soldiers have come marching into his town, the place is now ‘peacefully’ occupied, he claims. It says that Duke River’s instruction is to hold our posts where we are. To not engage or interfere with the Reldoni soldiers.”


    Kashin shook his head, disgust written all over his weathered face. “Frankly, it stinks like a frozen shit in your bed.”


    “So nothing changes, then,” Daegan said, his tone measured, but Tanlor could sense the tension beneath. “Your Duke’s orders are to keep defending Rubane’s lands from the rakmen.”


    “Aye,” Kashin grunted, “but I’ve got family in Bluewater Wall. I don’t like knowing there’s a thousand Reldoni soldiers, ‘peaceful’ or not, two days’ march from them.”


    Cru chimed in, eyes narrowing as he looked to Daegan. “Plenty of the men from Twin Garde are from Nordock, Lord Daegan. Same goes for the men here, I’d wager. This news…” He hesitated, then spat, “Most of ‘em won’t take kindly to it.”


    Tanlor couldn’t help but think the gruff Twin Garde captain looked more like a bandit chief than a soldier now. The leather eyepatch, the scraggly beard, the rough edge to his speech—it all painted a picture of someone more accustomed to ambushes on lonely roads than leading men in battle.


    “What is Lukane thinking?” Daegan muttered, starting to pace back and forth across Kashin’s cramped office. His steps were restless, his mind clearly racing. “None of this makes sense. Rubane has been our ally for decades. Hells, the supply from the Rubane Ironworks is the backbone of our military. Without them, our army would be…” He trailed off, his eyes narrowing in thought.


    Tanlor could see it—that familiar look Daegan got when something started clicking in his mind, when he was just on the edge of piecing it all together. It was an expression that Tanlor was becoming more accustomed to.


    “What is it?” Tanlor asked, urging him to speak his thoughts aloud. He noticed Kashin, arms crossed, still watching Daegan with a heavy dose of suspicion. But that edge was softening. Cru’s endorsement had done wonders to ease the man’s doubts, but Daegan’s open pacing, his troubled musings, that was doing even more. Tanlor realised that Daegan knew it, too. He was playing Kashin like a fiddle.


    The sly dog. This was the Daegan that Tanlor remembered from Rubastre. The inconspicuous crippled prince of Reldon, who somehow managed to convince people to do exactly what he wanted them to.


    Hells. Tanlor realised, that’s exactly what he’s been doing to me. Two weeks ago, Tanlor had been completely bent on returning Daegan to Rubastre, and now here he was in Westmark even further away.


    Tanlor had seen this kind of behaviour all the time from being a Dukesguard for Edmund. The Arch-Duke somehow always got what he wanted without ever asking outright. It was all in the way he carried himself, made you feel like you were in on his plans, like you were solving the puzzle together. Daegan’s doing that now. And the likes of Kashin were so far removed from those kinds of political machinations, he didn’t even notice it was happening.


    “… it’s all theories,” Daegan admitted, rubbing a hand over his face. “But Reldon’s military might depends on the weapons we get from Rubane. My whole position in Rubastre was about keeping that supply flowing. My father had... ambitions. Reclaiming Altaria was just the start. He used to go on about ‘restoring Reldon’s former glory’—Altaria, Athlin, Ard-Rien, even Rubane, they were all once under Elyina’s empire.”


    “You think this attack on Rubane is part of your father’s plan for dominance?” Tanlor asked, frowning at the implications.


    “Lukane was always going to follow in his footsteps,” Daegan muttered, his eyes narrowing in thought. “But I didn’t think he’d be this reckless. Landryn and Allyn would’ve stood against him on this, surely...” He trailed off again, and Tanlor knew all of this discussion was as much for Kashin’s benefit as his own, trying to sway the old commander. “I don’t know. I’ll need time to think about it. But that doesn’t change what’s in front of us. Right now, Commander Kashin—whether you’re convinced of it or not—you’ve got an army of rakmen headed this way, and another army of Reldoni to the south.”


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    Daegan’s eyes flicked to Tanlor, one brow arched. Tanlor caught on, though a beat late. Daegan couldn’t be the one to offer the plan outright. Not with Kashin still seeing him as a prince of the enemy. This was on Tanlor to do.


    Tanlor cleared his throat, stepping forward. "Might I respectfully suggest, Commander, pulling back to Bluewater Wall. It’s defensible, more so than Westmark. When the rak hit here again—and they will—this keep won’t hold. You need to fall back and fortify. We all need to gather our forces where we have the advantage."


    “I don’t like the idea of a thousand Reldoni soldiers so close by either,” Cru grunted, his rough voice scraping against the tense air. “But those rak bastards? I’d wager they’re a damn sight worse.”


    “Better the enemy you know than the one who tears you apart in the dark,” Rowan agreed.


    Kashin stood silent as they spoke, weighing the options like a man with two heavy stones in his hands. Tanlor could see the conflict etched on the old soldier''s face. The man in Kashin would want to be at Bluewater Wall, guarding his family from whatever hells were creeping toward them—whether that be rakmen or Reldoni. That much was clear. But the soldier in him? Well, no commander wanted the stain of abandoning their post, no matter the odds stacked against them.


    Tanlor could almost hear the gears grinding in Kashin''s head. Duty or family.


    Kashin took a long breath. “I can’t make this decision rashly,” he finally said, voice steady, but with a flicker of doubt. “I need to speak with my captains. The truth is, I can’t just abandon Westmark on a whim. I’ll be sending out a team of scouts to verify what you’ve told me about the rakmen.”


    He stood, signalling the end of their conversation, his eyes flicking to Daegan. “I’d appreciate it if you stayed in the barracks,” he said, with a tone of careful diplomacy. “I know the men of Twin Garde have vouched for you, but you’re still Reldoni, and after today’s news, my men are on edge. It’s for your own safety, you understand?”


    “Of course,” Daegan agreed with a nod, though Tanlor noted the tension in his jaw.


    Rowan, still seated, glanced at Kashin, his voice coming out quieter than usual, tinged with an edge Tanlor hadn’t heard before. “Will you let us know if you hear anything from Garronforn?”


    Fear. Tanlor could hear it clear as day in his brother’s voice. The pang of guilt hit hard, twisting in his gut. Rowan’s wife and sons were in Garronforn, along with most of their family. Hells, the city was their home, though Tanlor couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought of it as his. Rowan may have spent more of his time on the road but still, he had a life he was desperate to protect. Tanlor had walked away from that life a long time ago.


    Kashin gave a solemn nod. “You’ll be the first to know.”


    Tanlor’s life was in Rubastre. Danielle was there. The Reldoni invasion? Yeah, it was bad. But Rubastre? Rubastre was the heart of Rubane. It wouldn’t fall. Couldn’t fall—not to the Reldoni. The coastal towns, they were at risk, sure. But his life, his future—that was in Rubastre, safe, strong behind its walls.


    And Danielle… she’d be safe too. She had to be. But still, he needed to get word to her, let her know he was alive. That he’d come home to her. His thoughts raced ahead—Danielle’s father might try to bring her back to Hardhelm. Tanlor couldn’t blame him for that. Hardhelm was a fortress on the eastern cliffs, one of the strongest in Rubane. It would be the last to fall if it came to it.


    He swallowed the unease in his throat. No. She was safe. Rubastre would hold. Hardhelm would hold.


    ***


    Once they were back in their room, Daegan paced like a caged animal, his words coming out in a frantic rush. Tanlor recognised this side of him, the true Daegan beneath all the bravado.


    “Lukane is insane! He was always a bastard, but this… this is madness. Blightwind? What kind of name is that?” Daegan spat the word like it tasted foul. “Allyn wouldn’t stand for this. She couldn’t have. She must’ve contested him. Maybe she couldn’t convince the Highlords to back her as Queen? But how in all the hells did Lukane manage to get their backing to invade Rubane? And Landryn… Landryn is Lord Commander of the army. How could he go along with this? Although his bloodshedders did try to kill me, so I’ve no idea what he’s up to.”


    He cut off abruptly, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts.


    “What is it?” Tanlor asked, stepping closer.


    Daegan’s face twisted with rage, realisation hitting him like a hammer. “Landryn wanted me dead. That bastard actually tried to have me killed.”


    Rowan stirred from the cot, looking between the two. “Wait, what?”


    “Ferath was working for Landryn, or at least that’s what we think,” Tanlor explained, realising that they had never filled Rowan in on what had happened in Twin Garde after Rowan had been captured. He’d need to give him a full explanation later.


    “A group of elite runewielders—bloodshedders, Daegan called ‘em—came for him in Twin Garde,” Tanlor summarised. “Managed to kill off a bunch of those rak, conveniently before turning on us. Ferath was with him, but we took him down.”


    “Ferath,” Daegan snarled, not pausing to fill the gaps for Rowan. “He was Landryn’s man. He needed me out of the picture. Think about it. If the Highlords believed Arch-Duke Edmund had a hand in killing me—a prince of Reldon—they would have no choice but to rally behind Lukane. Their pride wouldn’t let them stand aside while one of their princes is killed by a foreign power. It’s the perfect setup.”


    “But Ferath failed,” Tanlor pointed out, trying to inject some logic into the whirlwind of Daegan’s thoughts.


    “Thanks to you,” Daegan wheeled on him, pointing a finger at him before breaking into a wide, almost manic grin. “You beautiful man! You might’ve just saved your whole country. Once the Highlords learn it was Landryn who tried to have me killed, their support for him will crumble. His bloodshedders might be an elite force, and Landryn himself… he’s dangerous. Exceptionally talented with aeristone. But even he can’t hold them together once the truth comes out.”


    Tanlor nodded, but he wasn’t entirely convinced. “You’re assuming they’ll believe you.”


    “They’ll have to.” Daegan''s eyes were wild, his mind racing ahead. “The Highlords are politicians first, soldiers second. They’ll switch their allegiance if they think Landryn’s ambition is a greater threat than Lukane’s madness.”


    Rowan, now sitting up and looking far more alert, spoke cautiously. “And what about this Blightwind business?”


    “It’s…” Daegan''s face twisted into a deep frown. “It’s Landryn.” His voice came out slow, deliberate, as if he was piecing it all together. “I’ve been assuming it was Lukane who took the crown, but no. Blightwind King? That’s got Landryn written all over it. This whole invasion… It''s a play for power. He’s using the war to consolidate his hold on Reldon.”


    Tanlor leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching Daegan closely. “So what about Lukane?”


    “I don’t know,” Daegan replied, shaking his head, “what the fuck is happening in Epilas. But either way, it’s clear. If Landryn’s successful in Rubane… that’s two kingdoms—Rubane and Altaria—back under Reldon’s banner. He’ll be hailed as a conqueror.”


    “A fucking hero,” Tanlor muttered, disgust creeping into his voice. A moment of quiet passed between the three of them then, all of them digesting what it all meant.


    “What does that mean for us now?” Rowan’s voice cut through the heavy silence, laced with the kind of calm only he could manage.


    “Nothing.” Daegan’s response came quick, sharp, as his hand instinctively went to the bloodstone dagger at his hip. Tanlor didn’t miss the gesture. “The rakmen are our problem right now. We need to make sure Kashin pulls back to Bluewater Wall. That’s the fight in front of us. Defending that line.”


    Tanlor watched him, the concern etched into his face. He had to admire Daegan’s resolve, the way he’d thrown himself into this fight. These weren’t his people, this wasn’t his land, and yet here he was, giving everything he had to defend it. There was a new intensity about Daegan, a determination that didn’t waver, not even when his own country was tearing itself apart.


    He’s got more heart than half the soldiers I’ve known. He couldn’t deny it—there was something about this new Daegan, something that pulled people in, made them believe. Hells, it was even pulling Tanlor off his own course, away from Rubastre.


    “Why?” Tanlor asked. “Why do you care so much, Daegan? This isn’t your fight. These aren’t your people.”


    Daegan’s hand tightened on the dagger, but his eyes stayed locked on the ground, distant. “Maybe not,” he muttered, voice low, almost too low to hear. “But it’s the right fight.”


    And there it is.


    Tanlor didn’t miss the look on Rowan’s face. It was a look he recognised on his brother—a quiet kind of certainty, the kind that said, I’m in, no matter what.


    Daegan had done it. He’d won Rowan’s loyalty, true and through. There’d be no dragging Daegan back to Rubastre now, no chance of pulling him off this course. Daegan was charting his own path, and not only that, he was pulling others into his orbit like a star drawing everything into its gravity.


    But where does that leave me? Tanlor wondered. He had plans. A life. Danielle was waiting for him back in Rubastre. He wasn’t meant to be here, fighting rakmen and dealing with the political machinations of foreign princes. Yet here he was, caught in the pull of Daegan’s strange, relentless drive.


    And the bastard wasn’t even trying.